We currently have stories with more being added every day

The Most Erotic Moment of My Life

Posted by: Posted on: 20 comments
9 likes 1 views Category: Masturbation Male-Female Tags: Sister-in-Law

This took place many years ago, but I still remember every detail.


First, some background. My wife is gorgeous. It’s in hermgenes. Her family’s Swedish, and they all look like models. I look OK incomparison. I played sports in college and never had any trouble getting dates, but my wife used to stop people in the street. Nevertheless, this story isn’t about her. It’s about her sister.

When my wife and I first met, my sister-in-law-to-be (let’s call her Emily) was still a kid. At family meetups, Emily and I used to spend a lot of time talking, mostly because we were the only two speaking English, and I literally couldn’t understand anyone else. Usually, these meetups included my wife, Emily, their mother, their 2 aunts (who spoke limited English), and their grandmother (who spoke no English). I was often the only male in attendance. I mention this because I think it helps to explain how Emily could get so affectionate with me without anyone saying anything. I think if her dad had been in the picture, things might have been different. As it was, though, Emily grew into the habit of touching/interacting with me quite a lot when we stopped by.

I need to emphasize that initially this was not in any way sexual. When Emily was a kid, she would climb on me as if I were a piece of jungle gym equipment. Occasionally, this included her wrapping her legs around me or sitting in my lap, but there was nothing sexual about it for either of us. I did enjoy her company, though. She was bright and fun-loving. I looked forward to seeing her.

Years passed. Emily entered her teens, and her body changed. I assumed that this transformation would mark the end of her being so affectionate with me, but if anything, it only made her more brazen. Once more, I think that if other men had been around, circumstances would have been different. Instead, for some reason, all of my wife’s relatives, including my wife herself, still viewed Emily simply as the young child, and me as the installation of inert playground equipment – despite the fact Emily was very clearly developing into a jaw-droppingly beautiful woman and despite the fact that she was constantly trying to drape her arms and legs around me or sit in my lap.

At this point, I must confess that our interactions had become sexually charged. Once Emily matured, it became impossible for thatvenal part of me to ignore the nubile body so intent on rubbing up against me – although we never did anything more explicit, and we were often sitting/laying together in the presence of other relatives. I’m also sure that Emily was no longer just innocently playing, but instead deliberately trying to enjoy the titillating power of her new body. In additional to touching me, she used to tease me *constantly* – carefreely spreading her legs when she knew only I could see, coming out of the bathroom in just a towel, asking for my opinion on her latest bikini and turning left and right and every which way to make sure I could properly evaluate it and her.

On a sidenote, I have often wondered what she thinks about these memories today – does she recall them with fondness? With embarrassment? With arousal? Regrettably, we’ve never had the opportunity to discuss them. I think some part of us both knew that we could only play our game so long as we continued to pretend that we were not playing it at all. But maybe I have misunderstood her intentions all these years.

In any event, everything above is just for context. Here is the story I wanted to share. When Emily was 14, my wife was very pregnant with our first child. As the delivery date drew near, we played host to a bevy of relatives, and one time, we ended up in a situation where Emily was going to have to sleep on the floor. “But this won’t do,” my wife protested, “Emily can just sleep in our bed.” My jaw nearly hit the floor.

“What?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” the wife insisted, “you both get along so well. It will be no problem.” The great irony here is that if any other woman so much as looks at me straight, my wife tends to get jealous, but for some reason, she just has a giant Emily-shaped blind spot in the center of her field of vision.

When bedtime came, my wife wore her fancy flannel pajamas, I wore a t-shirt and boxers, and Emily wore a pink tank top with black boyshorts. Our naked bodies would be separated by just 2 centimeters of cotton. Before bed, we took turns putting our hands on my wife’s stomach and feeling the thrusts of life from within. Then we lay down to sleep with my wife to the left, Emilyto the right, and me snuggled safely in the middle.

The first leg I felt crossing into my territory belonged to my wife. At bedtime, she likes to have a little contact to know I’m there but gets too hot in her flannel to push for more. Only seconds later came a second touch: the cool, smooth feel of Emily’s leg, sliding up my right side, stopping to rest with her thigh directly on my manhood. I mentioned before that Emily had a history of brazenness, but this was audacious even for her. My pregnant wife, her sister, lay less than half a meter away, and yet this fact did nothing to deter her. She moved her perfect leg slowly up and down – the snake charmer plying her trade – and rested her head and arm across my chest. With great effort and concentration, I managed to counter my body’s natural response to thisstimulation. Partly, I did this because of the wild inappropriateness of it all, and partly, I did not want Emily to think that she could so easily control me. A couple of minutes later, she abandoned her game and we both fell soundly asleep, still in each other’s arms.

About two hours later is when it happened. I awoke to the feeling of something striking my right leg. I opened my eyes to see what it was and saw Emily’s legs splayed out widely in both directions, her covers tossed aside. Her left leg collided regularly into mine, and her right hand toiled busily between her legs, furiously attempting to rub a hole in the thin fabric of her cotton shorts. I looked to her face and saw that her eyes were closed. I did not know then, and do not know now, whether she was truly awake or asleep, but I suspect that she was asleep, and dreaming, and rubbing herself in time with the dream. As I watched her hand moving so fast up and down, urgently working to satisfy the tingling ache of her teenage body, I lost the self-control which I had earlier known and felt myself give way to the most painfully full erection which I have ever felt. (Recalling all this still gives me a rise to this day). I also listened, with genuine fear, to the sound of my own heartbeat, thumping so loudly that I was sure it would rouse my bedmates. Buh-bum, Buh-bum! Emily continued to rub herself. Her body clenched, and her hips rose to meet the obedient hand. Buh-bum, Buh-bum! She switched from rubbing up and down to more of a low, circular motion. Her legs rocked gently back and forth. The lips of her mouth parted slightly. Buh-bum, Buh-bum! Her breath quickened and split into tiny whimpers. She was then, and remains today, one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen, captured forever in my memory in one of the most personal moments I have ever witnessed.

And then, a few minutes later, it was over. Her hips lowered back onto the bed. Her hand came to a stop. I do not know if she came. What I do know is that because she had seemed to be asleep the entire time, she felt no need to cover up, and merely returned to a peaceful slumber with her legs still spread widely in both directions, and her covers still askew.

For my own part, I remained awake for about the next two hours, though who can claim to reliably measure the passage of time in such a state. I considered getting up to relieve myself of the painful throb down below, but thought better of it, lest I might wake either of the women lying next to me and allow them to see the state Emily was in. This, I feared, could lead to some uncomfortable questions. So I remained still, and played back the events I had witnessed over and over again in my head, until sleep finally got the better of me. When I awoke in the morning, both Emily and my wife still slept beside me, both modestly posed and covered in soft sheets.

Although these events were repeated multiple times with multiple variations throughout the week that Emily spent in our bed, nothing has ever been said out loud about them by anyone – until today.

Comments

20 comments -

You must be logged in to post wall comments or like a story. Please login or signup (free).

Other Stories You May Enjoy



Recommended For You